


Flight of the orange eagle

by Elrin



Category: Warcraft II, Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 01:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21312082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elrin/pseuds/Elrin
Summary: Story of Alomir Perenolde, the son of Aliden Perenolde. Spending years hiding among Stormwind citizens, he has to face his past when his real identity is revealed.
Kudos: 1





	1. Fate

Anduin Wrynn entered the dark cell in the basement of Menethil stronghold. Mixed feelings rose inside him; he was anxious but curious at the same time concerning what he was about to see.

The prisoner sat in the corner, resting the side of his face against the wall, his hands tied behind his back. His body was full of wounds, bruises and scars - the obvious signs that he had been severely tortured. As the brown-haired man looked up, his eyes widened at the sight of the King, but seconds later, they narrowed. Those cold, grey eyes burned with fire, and despite the terrible situation he was in, his gaze looked noble and proud. He was relatively young, although Anduin was sure the man was several years older than he was.

“Lord Perenolde?” Anduin addressed the man.

The prisoner was clearly surprised by that title, as nobody had called him that before.

“So, the King himself has paid me a visit. To execute me, perhaps?” Alomir Perenolde, son of Aliden Perenolde commented sarcastically.

“I didn’t know about this. I’d never agree on such acts,” Anduin said apologetically, but firmly, referring to the interrogation. “These soldiers acted on their own, without permission.’

“I believe you. From what I've heard of you so far, you're not the type of person who would order such a thing. I've served in your army long enough.”

“So, it’s true. You really have been living among us, and have fought for our kingdom, even rose to the rank of lieutenant. I just don’t understand why. You’re a prince, after all.”

“Heir of a destroyed kingdom and a public enemy family,” Perenolde laughed bitterly. “I only wanted to live a decent life, while keeping my identity a secret. It was never my intention to live like a bandit like many Alteraci do, and I’ve done nothing against your people. That’s all you need to know.”

“You killed five of our men.”

“I only defended myself. When they learned who I was, they immediately wanted to see me dead. This couldn’t have happened under the watch of Captain Stoutfist, though. He’s a good man, but he had to leave for Dun Mudr because of an emergency.”

Anduin sighed, and stepped forward to cut Alomir’s ropes.

‘You will be set free right away. I can assure you that the actions of the soldiers in charge here will not go unpunished. I will provide you protection when you return to Stormwind, I-”

“Let’s not fool ourselves, king Wrynn” Alomir interrupted him, as he rose up. He was clearly in much pain, but he stood firmly in front Anduin. “We both know many will still try to hunt me down, whether you forbid it or not. I know that Stormwind doesn’t have much history with us, but the survivors of Stromguard and Lordaeron hate us with passion. I can’t remain, now that my real identity has been revealed. I have no choice left but to join my people, but I don’t intend to be at war with the Alliance. Not that Alterac could do any serious damage to you, though. We lack the manpower and discipline first and foremost.”

Anduin’s face darkened.

“I still think it would be better if you came back with us. Greymane would welcome you too, I believe. Gilneas had always supported Alterac. They had also lost their home, and found refuge in our kingdom.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I have to refuse your offer. I just want my horse and my equipment back. Although, I have to admit that I’m greatly surprised by your lack of…hatred. Everyone despises Alterac.”

“I condemn the actions of the Syndicate, of course. But it is clear that you’re not like them, and I won’t imprison or execute someone who didn’t commit a crime, just because they hail from Alterac.”

Perenolde looked at him with respect.

“You’re the wisest king Stormwind ever had. Especially for your age.”

Anduin was somewhat surprised by the praise, but nodded.

“Thank you. I try my best to live up to my responsibilities.”

Later, as Anduin watched the man galloping towards Thandol Span, he lamented on whether the uncrowned Perenolde would keep his word. He was aware of the reason why there was such a strong hatred towards the fallen nation of Alterac. Besides the immoral actions of its late king, there was another thing which fueled the hatred further. The proclamation which Uther Lightbringer himself wrote during the second war. Anduin read it when he studied the history of the Eastern Kingdoms. Although it was justified at the time, it doomed the Alteraci people and their descendants forever.

_"BE IT NOW KNOWN that the individual called Lord Aiden Perenolde and every known ally (see attached list), due to their association with the vile Horde during the war and their traitorous actions toward the Alliance and her citizens, shall be stripped of all land, holdings and wealth and known hereafter as traitors to the Alliance. They shall forfeit all rights to citizenry in the Alliance. Indeed, they are considered enemies of all citizens of Lordaeron. Let no good people of this land show them hospitality, mercy or sanctuary. Consider the honor they gave the Alliance and her citizens, and treat them no better."_

A week earlier

Wetlands was described as two things: swamps and dangerous fauna. Most Alliance soldiers hated when they had to station there, but not Alomir, who had been staying here for half a year now. He never liked politics, and posts in Stormwind inevitably got him involved in them. This place was relatively quiet, with only raiding orcs causing trouble. The inhabitants of this land were mainly dwarves, who had several strongholds across the land, and they usually minded their own business.

Alomir was sitting in Menethil harbor, near the stables, drinking from his flask. He wore the blue armor of the Alliance, except the helmet, which he had placed on the ground next to him. Although he was a quiet person and rarely smiled, his fellow soldiers respected him a great deal, for he was always calm and collected even in dire situations, and they could count on him. Unbeknownst to them, his reserved nature was mostly due to the fact that he carried a heavy family burden, being the grandson of the late King Perenolde, and keeping that a secret.

Alomir noticed one of the human soldiers slowly approaching him. He saw that the man was walking up to him with drawn weapon but he didn’t think much into it. The aging soldier was around fifty, having even lived through the first great war. Despite not being a high-ranking officer, he was still an influential figure in the army.

“What’s the matter, Keats?” Alomir asked curiously. “The orcs attacked again?”

The man got closer, and pointed the sword at him, but keeping his distance at the same time.

“You thought we’d never reveal your secret? Surrender now!”

“What the-are you insane?” Alomir asked, confused.

Suddenly, four more soldiers arrived, whom he recognized instantly. He knew that they were originally citizens of Lordaeron, and Keats was from Stromgarde. This was no coincidence. These two nations hated Alterac and the Syndicate, and with good reason.

“You’re a Perenolde!” Keats shouted angrily.

Alomir’s face turned white, and he jumped to his feet. He had no idea how they realized his true identity, but it didn’t matter now. Their intention was obviously sinister, and he knew that he had to flee immediately if he wanted to live. It was fortunate that he was so close to the horses. He ran to the stables as fast as he could, and got on his grey steed. He jumped over the short fence at the back of the stables, and galloped through the bridge connecting the settlement and the swamp, while the people guarding it looked confused.

His attackers were after him in an instant. Not only that, they even gathered more people to pursue him. He didn’t have time to count them, but their number was enough to cause him real trouble, and be able to surround him. Alomir decided it was the safest to head for the Arathi Highlands. Going south to dwarven territory would be a dead-end for him.

Being chased in a swamp didn’t raise his chances of escaping, especially when he had to make a shortcut. Being outnumbered, it was only a matter of time before one of them the managed to knock him off his horse.

“Back off!” Alomir shouted at them, while drawing his sword, and getting up.

Despite the circumstances, he didn’t want to kill these people. He had served with them long enough not to do it easily. His opponents didn’t have such worries though, and they came at him. Alomir was an exceptionally skilled swordsman, having learned from the best instructors in Stormwind, and he soon dispatched three soldiers. Then two more.

That was until the remaining reinforcements arrived and surrounded him. He thought they’d kill him now, but for some reason, they didn’t. They quickly disarmed him and pushed him to his knees, two men keeping him down. He saw Keats stepping forward, and he lost his consciousness as the man punched him with his armored hand.


	2. Isiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alomir expected Isiden to either try to prevent him from claiming the throne, or the opposite, to aid him in his cause. All these years, he longed to see any of his relatives, but now he wished they hadn’t met at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Isiden's cover identity is not mine, I've read it on the forums. I was amazed at the theory, and I thought it could be possible, so I used it in my own fanfiction too.

Alomir got enough supplies from Wrynn to be able to survive alone until he reached the dwarven settlement Aerie Peak in the Hinterlands. He was relieved that his horse, Mist, was well, he was afraid that he got injured during the fight back in the swamp. Passing through Arathi Highlands, he knew that he had to avoid of Refugee Point at all costs, since the base was being led by survivors of Stromgarde. This certainly made his journey more difficult, not being able to rest at a safe place. However, this hadn’t been the first time he had to live in such conditions, and he knew how to survive. The endless plains of Arathi was a truly breathtaking sight, especially that it was the first time Alomir had set foot on this kingdom. The warm summer breeze caressed his face as he watched the remains of Stromgarde keep in the distance. He couldn’t help but wonder how it might have looked like in its glory. Despite a large number of Syndicate stationed there, it was too risky for him to enter. He intended to reach Stranhbrad instead, the town which more or less became the center of the fallen kingdom of Alterac, and its main leader-however they were at the moment-resided there.

It took him two days to arrive to Aerie Peak. As he approached the center of the stronghold, he noticed a dwarf warrior standing next to the road, leaning to a tree. Much to Alomir’s surprise, the stranger waved at him.

“Hey there, lad! I’ve been waiting fer ye fer quite a long time. Can’t say yer fast…” the dwarf said with a thick accent.

Alomir didn’t expect anybody to wait for his arrival. Could it have been that Anduin was helping him? His capture at Menethil harbor, and the torture he had endured had a serious toll on his nerves, and his trust would never be the same again. His hand subconsciously wandered to the hilt of his sword. He was exhausted from the long journey, and his injuries didn’t completely heal either. Although Anduin offered to heal him back at Menethil, Alomir refused the offer out of pride. In this state, he didn’t have much chance if he got himself into a fight.

“Calm down, I’m an ally. My name’s Fershod,” the dwarf told him, seeing his distrust.

“Who told you about me?” Alomir demanded.

“It was a human, but I’m not allowed tae say his name. Don’t ye worry though, we dwarves don’t meddle with human politics. I was just told tae provide you shelter, and give ye directions if ye decide tae leave for Hillsbrad. Besides, ye look terrible, lad. I believe ye should stay and rest fer a day...or two.”

“That was my intention, yes. Just show me the nearest inn, and I’ll be on my own.”

It must be Anduin, who gave the dwarf these directions, Alomir thought.

“You don’t talk much, eh? Whatever yer reasons are, they must be serious,” the dwarf commented while he led Alomir through the settlement. Alomir didn’t answer.

When he settled in and lay down on his back on the bed, he immediately hissed in pain, and rolled onto his side instead. Those bastards back in Menethil gave him a really hard time, everything hurt. But considering the circumstances, he still got away easily, not being crippled and such. He almost immediately fell asleep, and slept through half the day. After waking up, he tended to his wounds. All the while he had been thinking about what would he say to his people when he reached them. He couldn’t possibly just walk in and tell them that he is their lost prince. Still, he couldn’t think of a better solution, hiding his real identity would be pointless.

Following a two days of rest, Alomir felt much better and decided it was finally time to leave. Fortunately, no one disturbed him during his time there, the dwarves possibly believing he was just an ordinary traveller. As he headed towards the narrow mountain trail which would eventually lead him to Hillsbrad, the dwarf Fershod stopped him to give him directions.

“I advise ye to visit Chillwind camp, which is run by the Argent Crusade. That’s the last friendly base ‘round here.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Alomir nodded.

He had been walking a good ten minutes on the mountain trail, leading his horse with a rope, when suddenly a man stepped out from behind the trees, and stopped in the middle of the road.

“Good day to you, Lord Perenolde,” he said loudly.

As he got closer to the stranger, the young Perenolde got tense when he realized who the man was. It was Mathias Shaw, leader of the SI:7. Alomir could have been surprised by his presence but he wasn’t. By now he was certain of the real identity of the man.

“Shaw…” Alomir managed to groan out.

Suddenly, he felt really uncomfortable standing with his back to the cliff, so he changed his position, walking to a safer spot. He was aware that if Shaw wanted to assassinate him, he would be dead already, but that didn’t set him at ease. Shaw was watching him with a strange, unreadable light in his eyes, but when he saw how anxious Alomir become, a slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m glad you made it here safely. Fershod is a trustworthy ally, I knew he would make sure you stay safe. I was overseas when I heard about you, and I instantly hurried back. I wanted to meet you in person.”

So it wasn’t Anduin. Did Shaw act on his own? Quite possibly.

“There are things we need to discuss.” Shaw continued mysteriously.

Alomir eyed him suspiciously.

“So, what are your intentions. Especially now that the truth came out?” he asked Shaw plainly.

“What are you aiming at, Perenolde?”

“I know who you are. During my service in Stormwind...I figured it out. That time I was desperate to find my [relatives...to](http://relatives.to) find out whether they were even alive. It was a great surprise for me, but I didn’t contact you. You being so close to the Stormwind leadership...it was too risky. Not to mention I didn’t know how you’d react towards me considering your new loyalties.”

“Is that so? Who do you think I am?” asked Shaw, and for a brief moment, Alomir saw worry in his eyes.

“Isiden Perenolde. My great uncle,” Alomir said as-a-matter-of-factly, and smiled bitterly.

The mans eyes narrowed, then after a long pause, he sighed.

“Your’re clever. I covered my tracks carefully but still...no matter. You can’t prove anything. The only person who knows the truth is –“

“Greymane, obviously,” Alomir finished the sentence. ”I had noticed that you were closely associated with him despite Wrynn being your king, and that you know awfully lot about Gilneas. Plus, I heard about the Perenolde tiara you indirectly received from an adventurer. I did some research, then put the picture together.”

“King Greymane supported me, and gave me shelter. Gilneas had always been an ally to Alterac. But the situation regarding the ascension became hopeless soon enough, and it was best to stay in the safety of Gilneas. And I miraculously avoided the Worgen curse as well.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t a happy family reunion, so I need to ask…do you intend to kill me? If we look at things from the view of ascension, I’m a threat to you.”

He didn’t know Isiden, like at all, especially since he lived a spy’s life. He didn’t like the man’s voice either, it was unnerving. There was something about it which made him think of a predator which is ready to strike. Cold and calculating, promising death.

“I didn’t even know Aliden had a child.” Another long pause. “No, I don’t want to kill you. You’re my relative after all, and you already faced injustice. You haven’t been spying, I know that for sure. I was disgusted by what Aliden had become, but you…I don’t know what kind of person you are. Anduin let you go in good faith. But I must warn you, I’m not a forgiving person. If you plan to rally the Alteraci against us, I’ll make sure to put an end to that.”

“My intention is quite the opposite. It’s time someone set things right in Alterac.”

“It’s only ruins, and it’s people had become mere criminals. And given the nature of our nation, you might not survive their powerplays.”

“It’s a disgrace how you speak of your own home and people,” Alomir retorted with growing anger. Isiden’s nonchalant attitude not only surprised him, but also made him starting to hate him.

“I’m just stating the truth. What Alterac had become doesn’t hurt you more than me, you know. We were meant to be so much better, and Aliden was a good man once. But things have changed, and being in the Alliance is a safer bet.”

“Is that so?” Alomir said, trying to control his anger. “When they found out I’m a Perenolde, they did this, among other things.”

With this, he turned and pulled his shirt up, showing his back to him. It was full of scars, caused by the whipping he received.

Isiden’s face darkened and narrowed his eyes.

“They tortured me and wanted to kill me, simply because of my ancestry. Despite the fact we’ve been in service together _for years_.”

“Were they by any chance former Stromgarde citizens?” Isiden asked in a quiet voice.

“Some of them were, yes. But there were Lordaeronians too. They didn’t miss the opportunity to call me a traitor and a filth, and they blamed me for the deaths of their families, not even caring that I was born after the second war. It perfectly demonstrated what they think of us.”

“These soldiers don’t represent the whole Alliance.”

Alomir laughed at this.

“I've been living among them for a long time. I know that most of them are decent. However, prejudice and old hatreds are hard to erase, and they won’t accept us,” he said, then paused for a few moments before he continued. “But there’s a reason you’re hiding too, isn’t it? They’d do the same to you, SI:7 or not. Don’t expect me to believe that you’re not afraid.”

Isiden didn’t answer, and his face was unreadable.

“How did you end up in Stormwind anyway?” he asked.

“After the death of my father, my mother decided it was better if we moved to a safe place, and try to live a normal life. Without using our real identities, of course. I haven’t returned since.”

“I see. It’s a real shame that things turned out the way they did. I doubt you’ll be able to change anything about the Syndicate, but do as you wish. Our paths are different, and as long as you don’t attack the Alliance, we’re good. The same goes for not revealing to anyone who I am. I must return to Stormwind now. Good luck to you, and take care. If you ever change your mind, you’ll be welcome to stay with us.”

With that said, Isiden headed down the path to the dwarf settlement, Alomir watching him silently. He was actually shocked about how indifferent Isiden was towards their nation. He expected him to either try to prevent him from claiming the throne, or the opposite, to aid him in his cause. All these years, he longed to see any of his relatives, but now he wished they hadn’t met at all. He realized why he acted so cold, though. Alomir made him remind of his responsibilities, because it should have been him who should have done something, but he let Alterac completely fall apart and turned his back on his people instead.

He stood there for a few minutes, then continued his journey with more determination than before.


	3. Family land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part may have yet to come, though. Trying to convince the Alteraci, when he had become a stranger, an outsider, despite his heritage.

Alomir now would set foot on Undead territory, and alone at that. The unfortunate town of Tarren Mill was too close for comfort too. Actually, he was surprised how intact the wildlife still was, despite the growing presence of the Forsaken. The Alteraci town wasn’t that far, but he had to wait hours at certain places before he could venture forth due to the number of Undead patrols roaming the area nearby. His horse felt nervous, sensing the presence of the Undead.

„Easy easy,” he soothed the animal, and caressed its head. His mount certainly made it more difficult for him to hide, but there was no way he left his horse at Aerie Peak or at Chillwind Camp.

Memories of his childhood came back flooding to him when he finally found - faster than he had expected - the path leading to Stranhbrad. It was long since he had been home. The hardest part may have yet to come, though. Trying to convince the Alteraci, when he had become a stranger, an outsider, despite his heritage. He put on an orange mask, and casually walked into Stranhbrad, like he lived there. He knew well that it wasn’t uncommon for the Syndicate to attack strangers on sight, so he decided that he’ll pretend until he meets their leader.

It wasn’t long before several Syndicate rogues emerged at his arrival. They soon realized that something was off, and they surrounded him suspiciously.

* 

Jimmy was standing around the upper levels of the keep waiting for his companions to return. He raised his eyebrow when a couple of his fellows led by Slipknot approached him. Among them was a man whom he did not recognize, despite he had a Syndicate bandana around his neck.

“Hey, Jimmy! Look what we’ve found nearby,” Slipknot said.

“Who the hell is he? Never seen him before,” commented Jimmy the Bleeder, while eyeing Alomir suspiciously.

“I’m Alteraci too,” said Alomir, and spoke the motto of the Syndicate confidently, having it heard many times as a child. “Strength in unity and revenge. The eagle never dies.”

“Hmm. You’re from Falconcrest’s group, then?” asked the man.

“No, I come from further. I need to speak to your leader, it’s urgent.”

“I guess you mean Norrington.”

Alomir had no idea what their leader was called, but he played along.

“Yes.”

Jimmy looked at one of the rogues who escorted Alomir, and the man walked into the large command room next to them. After a short while, they heard voices.

“This better be important, Morton. I’m in a terrible mood right now. Today’s incident with that patrol really got me,” Alomir heard the rough voice of a man.

The rogue named Morton appeared at the doorway and signaled them to come inside.

The Syndicate leader stood in front of a table. The man was the embodiment of the roguish lifestyle his people ended up living. His facial features made it evident that he belonged to a noble family, but the years of war weathered his appearance. He was blind to his left eye, and he wore a red eyepatch. His fair hair was long, and tied in a foxtail style. He wore black leather armor, and the gloves were painted as if they were skeletal hands. Alomir estimated that he was around 40 years old.

“I don’t recognize you,” the man questioned him in a demanding voice. “Are you a noble? Which house do you belong to?”

“I am a noble, yes. Are you the leader here?” Alomir asked cautiously.

“You really need to ask? I’m Drevis Norrington. Maybe you’re not Alteraci. Just another alliance scum roaming our lands.”

“I’m not Alliance! I’m Alteraci!” said Alomir a little more vehemently than he wanted.

“Really? Why are you so panicked then? Never mind, what’s your story?” the man asked in a tired, stern voice, then leaned his back against the table.

“I have confidential information, but only for your ears.”

Norrington raised his eyebrows and didn’t answer at once. Then he signaled with his head to one of the guards, who walked up to Alomir, and took his weapons from him, which awakened bad memories, but he forced himself to stay calm. Then the man, along with the rest of the guards left the room. Norrington remained silent, watching Alomir.

“First of all, there’s one thing I need to know: did you support the Perenolde family?” Alomir asked cautiously.

The man’s eye narrowed, and didn’t answer immediately. He turned his face away, as if he was contemplating on something.

“What does it matter now? They’re long gone and power is split between a few high ranked men, just like me. Why do you want to know?” he asked bitterly and sternly. Alomir saw apathy and coldness in his green eye.

Alomir took this as a yes. If he would be against them, he would probably have said something insulting. He took a big breath and hoped for the best.

“I am Alomir Perenolde. Aliden’s son.”

Norrington quickly turned back to him in disbelief.

“What is this game you’re playing, stranger?”

“I am telling the truth.”

“I’ve heard rumors about Aliden having a child…but nothing more. Nobody seems to recognize you. How do I know you speak the truth? You come here, a complete stranger and expect me to believe something like this? This is madness. How come you didn’t show yourself all this time?”

Alomir got tense, as he knew he was walking on thin ice. He was practically at the mercy of this man now.

“I grew up and lived in a manor in Dandred’s Fold, near Stranhbrad, until the age of 10, my identity kept secret, in fear others might want to kill or kidnap me,” he answered. “Whenever I left our home, I accompanied by someone else than my parents. After my father died, I moved to Stormwind with my mother-not revealing my real identity, of course-and became a soldier.”

“That’s the unlikeliest thing I’ve heard in years, seriously.” Norrington said with his arms crossed, his facial expression between annoyed and angry. “So, you’re telling me you denied Alterac?”

“No, never! Look, it was my mother who took me to Stormwind, and I stayed. She wanted a better life for me.”

“So, you left for Stormwind at the age of 10 or so…how old are you now? You look at least 25…Seems like you enjoyed your stay there. What made you come back here then?”

“They discovered my identity. A group of Lordaeronians and Stromguardians captured me and tortured me,” Alomir answered darkly.

Norrington looked at Alomir’s face, realizing the origin of the relatively fresh, long scar running across the bridge of his nose and another one on his left cheek.

“I’m not surprised by their behavior at all. Hah.”

“But Anduin Wrynn released me when he knew about the incident. I didn’t come here to simply take refugee. This isn’t about me, but our people. I came here to help restoring Alterac.”

Norrington let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure that now you’re here, everything will be alright, and decades of suffering will end,“ he said with as much sarcasm as he could.

Alomir averted his gaze to the floor. He knew his people wouldn’t welcome him, and he understood them. But at least he tried to do something, unlike Isiden, who played spy in Stormwind and abandoned his whole nation. He also didn’t intend to reveal Isiden’s secret, that would have only caused more turmoil.

Norrington took a bottle from a table nearby, and drank the remaining alcohol in it.

“Here goes our last bottle of Alterac brandy…” he said sadly as he put the bottle down. “Listen, Alomir. To answer your question, yes, I supported the Perenoldes.”

That was a relief to hear. After all the things his ancestors had committed, this man still wasn’t hostile towards him. That was certainly a good start.

“However,” Norrington continued. “I’m still not sure you’re telling the truth. I need proof. Anything. For instance, can you name people who would recognize you?”

“I can name a few...Alder, Huber, Kersey...” Alomir answered.

“Dead. All of them,” Norrington replied grimly.

Alomir let out a sigh. He slowly reached under his shirt and pulled out a golden signet ring, which was strung on a chain. He never showed this to anyone and kept it carefully hidden, even his captors hadn’t found it back then. Something told him that he could trust this man, so he handed the signet to him.

“My father’s,” he simply said.

Norrington examined the object, and immediately recognized the impression on it. The eagle with four stars next to it – the national emblem of Alterac – accompanied by the Perenolde family crest.

“So, you DO speak the truth, after all,” he declared.

There was a short silence.

“What do you want, exactly?” the Syndicate leader asked in a low voice, while giving the heirloom back to Alomir.

“I know that our nation was divided, and I see that hasn’t changed. I need support to unite our people and free Alterac City. That’s why I came to you.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but officially, you have no right to the throne, Perenolde or not. And being a former lapdog of the Alliance won’t make you any more popular you know…,” he said, and couldn’t resist the urge to smirk. “Besides, that’s a tough thing to ask. Gaining supporters won’t be an easy thing at all. Half of the Alteraci hate and blame the Perenoldes. I too, would become very unpopular among many if I supported a Perenolde. They accept me as their leader because my family was one of the most influential and respected noble families, even with our allegiances. I agree with you, however. Unifying Alterac is probably our only chance for survival, and I've grown tired of the constant struggle. I’ll try to keep them in line, but I can’t promise anything, especially that I’m not the only leader of the Syndicate. Infighting is a common problem among our people.”

“Are you referring to the one who reside within the ruins of Stromgarde?”

Norrington nodded, but his face darkened and furrowed his brows.

“Falconcrest, yeah. But knowing him, he’d kill you himself…he wants power. Plus, he and his followers hate the Perenoldes, they were even outside of Alidens influence as well.”

“I see. As far as I can remember, there’s a significant number of Alteraci there. I wouldn’t want to fight them.”

“Me neither. However, there may be no other way, since there’s already bad blood between us. We can try negotiating with them, but I hardly think Ravencrest would cooperate. The Syndicate in Stromgarde is a merciless group you see, their constant fighting with the ogres and the Stromgardians made them ruthless."

Another silence fell upon the room before Norrington continued.

“Alright then. I have a lot of things to think over, not to mention to cope with the shock of your sudden appearance. Tomorrow we’ll discuss our options, and I’ll introduce you to my team. Damn, it’s still so hard to believe we have a prince again! Welcome home, Alomir,” Norrington said with a smile, and put his hand on Alomir’s shoulder reassuringly.


End file.
